


Black Candles

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Good BDSM Etiquette, Italian Character(s), Light daddy kink, Lingerie, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Orgasm Control, Power Play, Power Swap, Restraints, Riding, Rules, Seduction, Strip Tease, Vaginal Sex, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Papa II is your dominant, but tonight, you've got a surprise for him that may tip the scales.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus II/Reader, Papa Emeritus II/Sister(s) of SIn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Black Candles

The monstrance clock in the corner of your bedchambers ticks softly. It had just gone two minutes past midnight, which meant you would hear the door open soon. Black candles flicker and drip their wax around the room, wavering every now and again. You wait behind the curtain.

As if on cue, there is a rap at the door. 

“Come,” you say, and the door opens. As per your usual meetings, Papa comes sweeping in in his robes, taking off his hat with poise and setting it aside.

“Mi stavi aspettando, Sister. Fuori dal campo visivo,” he says, performing a small flourish. (You were waiting for me, sister. Out of sight.) You bite your lip as you listen to his voice, hidden. He removes his black gloves, setting them aside carefully. “Giocare, mm?” (Playing games, hm?)

“Si. Faremo un giochino ... se lo permetterai.” (Yes. We’re going to play a little game... if you’ll allow it.)

Intrigued, he bows his head in acquiescence. “Va bene.”

You smirk behind the black curtain, trailing your fingers up your body in anticipation. You watch him through the thin black fabric, watch him take off his robes, fold them, and place them on the chair with his gloves. Even in his casual attire, he’s distinguished. “Tonight’s going to be a little different. I am still submissive to you... I always will be... but tonight, I get to lead.”

Papa chuckles, moving over to your water basin to wash the skull paint off. “Relinquish my authority over you, little one?” He observes your silhouette through the mirror, behind the black sheet and illuminated by the glittering candles.

“Not completely,” you breathe, already imagining his hands on you.

“Very well. You can lead tonight,” he nods, “If you are sure you feel, mmm... up to the task. Do you?”

“What do you think?”

He turns as he sees you come out from behind the curtain in the mirror. That dark glare sweeps over you, down your body as it’s hidden from his prying eyes with a dark cloak. The clock ticks. The cloak falls further down your shoulders, until it’s pooled around your feet, revealing a black lingerie set. His knuckles tighten on the basin, and he drags a towel over his face.

“I think you look like you’re ready to conquer the world.” He patters his fingers against his lips. “It is very sexy.” He looks at you like a master would his pet who misbehaved—with amused affection.

“No,” you smile, sauntering toward him. Your hands find his white shirt, start to unbutton it from the top down. “Just to conquer you, who cannot be conquered.” He looks down at your handiwork, watches your nimble fingers slip each button from its hole until his shirt is open, bare chest exposed. You run your hand up along his warm skin, and he responds with a pleased purr. His hands wrap around you from behind, and fingers dig into the meat of your ass as you stand up on your tip-toes, lips parting. You press an open mouthed kiss to his neck, to the juncture where it meets his collarbone, and he expels a groan at the dark lipstick stain you’ve left. “Papa...” you whisper, suckling lightly at the skin there. Another groan, and as one hand squeezes your ass cheek, the other gives the other side a small smack. “Ah, ah. Don’t get rough now,” you breathe, “Not yet.” You can tell he’s less than satisfied with your admonishment—or at least, not used to it. It feels strange for you as well, telling him what to do. On normal nights like these, you wouldn’t dare order him around. He is your superior, in the bedroom and outside, and to challenge him is to court severe, sinful punishment.

But with express permission, it feels good this once.

“What do you want me to do, caro?” he murmurs. His stance is still regal—it never won’t be—but he knows the importance of a strict set of rules, and following them.

“I want you to get on the bed,” you say, licking your lips. Dutifully, he strips his open shirt off so that he’s only left in his black pants and leather shoes. He gets on your bed, moving so that he’s laying against the black satin pillows. His intense eyes never leave you, maintaining contact through the action. You rub your hands up your thighs, dipping your thumbs into the waistband of your tiny panties. Ultimately leaving them be, your hands move up your stomach to your bra, up to the swell of your breasts spilling over the top of the satin cups.

“You have the devil’s seduction in you,” he muses. You reach to the side, taking one of the black candles, and hold it over your cleavage. Wax drips down on your skin, one drop at a time, and you grimace, eyebrows lifting at the perfect sting. Papa sits further up on the bed, even more at attention. Your pained cries morph into sighs as you rock your hips through the surge of arousal. Tracing your finger over the developing red marks on your hyper-sensitive breasts, you moan softly, shrugging your shoulder up as you slide one strap down. His gaze is hooked on your every move. 

“Touch yourself,” you breathe. His chest dips in a heated exhale, and he reaches down to unlatch his belt. Even if he’s the one being ordered around, he never loses his natural aura of authority... you feel your knees begin to shake as he takes his time pulling his expensive belt out of their loops, dropping it, unbuttoning his pants. You unhook your bra with a pop, and it drops to the floor, keeping your arm over your nipples. He opens the front of his pants, and you can see the evidence of a half-hard erection tenting his white boxers, the outline of him you know so well.

“You are the only one who rips such carnal reactions from me,” he says, giving his bulge a squeeze through his boxers, “No one gets me hard like you do.” By now, you’re practically salivating. You want to wrap your mouth around his cock and get him even harder, but you also need this to last. 

“Show it to me,” you command, one hand moving up to give your breast a slow massage. The pain of the wax marks stimulates you even more, and you turn around, rotating your hips so your ass is rocking back. He watches your ass, how it moves slowly in gyrating motions as you move to tease your panties down. You turn back around to see him take his cock out, about to stroke up to the head. You hold up a finger. “Wait.” He holds himself, not moving any further as he watches your next step.

You expose your breasts to him finally, and crawl onto the bed in between his legs. He parts them to make room for you. You dip your head down, sliding your lips over the head of his erection. A guttural noise begins in his chest and falls from his lips as you take his cock all the way to the back of your throat, swallow around the large member, and flatten your tongue against it to slide back up. You pop off, a thin line of spit connecting you. You wipe it off, and suck the pad of your thumb into your mouth. “There. That’s better.”

He nods, and uses the slick you’ve provided to drag his fist back down to the smattering of salt and pepper hair at the base. He builds up a pace, and you watch his cock swell with each stroke, head disappearing each time he rubs his fist up. His hands reach back every so often to tease his perineum, massage his sac softly beneath, and play with his hole, a move that he uses on himself when he truly is solo for the night.

His thin moustache twitches. “Do you like what you see, il mio cuoricino nero?” he asks, that irresistible smirk on his lips.

“You know I do, Papa,” you moan, and stand higher up on your knees on the bed, casting your shadow over him. His one milky eye glistens by candlelight, and you revel in the quiet sounds of his pleasure, each and every grunt and forced breath. His breathing quickens to a frenzy as the speed of his strokes picks up. “Stop,” you say, and he does. You take his white satin tie from the ground beside the bed, and loop it around his wrists, tying it in a knot. He lets you do it, that silent watchful gaze making you shiver. You pull his pants down his legs, and off with his shoes. The shroud of candlelight around you two seems to grow as you close the distance between you. 

“I’m so wet. If only you could feel it,” you groan, crawling over top of him. All of your limbs are surrounding him, and he is looking up at you. “You know you wish you were inside me,” you whisper. He briefly gazes at the breasts in his face, eyes flickering back up to yours. “You wish you could feel how wet this pussy is for you. _It’s fucking dripping, daddy_. _”_ His breath hitches. You press a kiss below his Adam’s apple, another one just below that, and down his chest. You finally get to his snail trail, then drag your tongue back up to his chest. You lean up to whisper in his ear. “I want your cock deep inside of me. But you don’t get to fuck me unless I know you want it.”

“I want you,” he says, voice deep and level as ever. “I want nothing else. Just to feel you, darling.”

You moan. “Nel nome di Satana Il mio corpo è tuo.” (In the name of Satan, my body is yours.) You finally position him and sink down over his cock. His forearms flex as he forces control over himself, and you take pity on him. As his thick cock stretches your walls with every inch toward the hilt, you unwrap the restraint of his tie. His hands fist in the sheets as he tries his best not to give into his instincts to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He lets out a breath.

“May I touch?” he asks.

“Not yet.” He keeps his hands at his sides, watches his cock disappear, inch by inch, inside you. “Mmm,” you hum, grinding down once you’re fully seated. He watches you, waits for your word, but doesn’t touch. You work yourself down on him, and his hips buck up. 

“Ah, forgive me,” he chuckles. “What can I say? Sometimes it has a mind of its own.” 

It felt so good that you don’t admonish him for it. He takes your lack of protest as encouragement, and gives a tentative rock of his hips, gauging your expression with a raised eyebrow. When your eyes slide shut in bliss at the warmth it spreads, he starts to pick up, thrust up into you with gusto, causing you to fall forward. This is certainly different from the poundings you usually get from behind or the intense face-fucking that leaves you a mess of makeup and tears. This is so much different.

Devilish eyes meet yours as your tongue swipes out along his lips. “So ethereally beautiful,” he murmurs, bucking his hips up, “Yes, mi dolce peccato. That’s it. Bounce on Papa’s cock.”

You grind down, clenching around him perfectly and drawing even louder moans from him. Still, his hands remain fisted in the sheets, splaying out and clenching again in discipline. You feel his hips start to stutter, and you exhale. “You c-can touch.”

The immaculate restraint he’s been using is severed instantly. His hands fly to your thighs, and he slams you down on him again, again, _again, fuck_ , until you’re nearly sobbing. Your ass jiggles from the force with which he’s pounding you, large cock stretching your pussy so much you don't know if you can take it. His hands travel up your back, holding you there, letting you fuck yourself on him and make him feel the best he’s felt in a very long time. Your nails dig into his shoulders, so hard you draw blood from the scratches. He revels in the pain, cursing under his breath.

“Will you allow me to cum?” he murmurs, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. 

“Not... yet... oh, not yet--”

He obeys, but increases the power of his thrusting. Your moans raise in pitch, nails scratching down to his heaving chest. He reaches down between your legs, locating your clit and circles his fingers around it. Your orgasm builds, the passion of skin sliding against skin in his aura of darkness building you up. You rock down, grinding perfectly. That’s when he breaks.

“Please,” he rasps, and the submission in his deep voice tips you over the edge.

“Yes. I want to be full of you. Let me feel what I’ve done to you, Papa!” You feel the pressure of his cock pulsing as far as he can go. With a primal growl, he finishes, his cum pumping deep into you as he makes sure you get every last drop of pleasure yourself. When you come down from your high you fall forward, bracing yourself against his chest with one hand as he slowly eases you down to lay on him.

“There, there.” He smooths his hand down your naked back, sighing contentedly. “Mm. Satisfied?”

“Mhmm. For now.” You smirk. He glances over at the rhythmically ticking monstrance clock, and tilts your chin up to look at him. 

“You still have me under your spell for a few more hours, my evil one.” He licks two fingers, extinguishes the closest candle, and presses a soft kiss to your swollen lips. “Bewitch me again?”

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments!


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